magicisalive

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Wednesday Here We Woe Again | 2.01

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hi guys sorry for the lack of posting i am currently eating cheese

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Whenever I see anti-Lottieshauna propaganda I think back to this

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propoganda i am TOTALLY falling for:

-lotties big brown eyes

-lotties big brown eyes

-lotties big brown eyes

-lotties prophecies of doom

-lotties big brown eyes

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BUTCHERQUEEN

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Shameless repost because. Well yes.

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Jackieshauna crumbs

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i think that we, as a fandom, should stop collectively ignoring the fact that shauna shipman canonically smokes weed (or at least her adult self)

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I feel like being in the yellowjackets fandom (specifically yj tumblr) has really impacted how I view shipping

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is the boba really worth it?

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you’re in a haunting the narrative competition and these two show up… wyd

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Walk with me…

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save me taller than me femme lesbian... save me...

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never forget whats been taken from us

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Smash

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what’s left of you

warnings: jackie lives! angst, canon-typical violence, references to cannibalism, emotional detachment, deteriorating situationship, psychological horror(?)

( i haven’t written in so long, bare with me. )

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──

jackie still loves her.

that’s the worst part.

she thinks she might love her more now.

not because of the things they survived. not because they held each other through nights that smelled like smoke and rot.

but because shauna is the only thing that still feels real.

even like this.

even after everything.

shauna is always covered in something.

blood. ash. snow.

jackie doesn’t think she’s seen her clean in a year, when it’s only been such a short time

she used to kiss her cheek in the morning just to make her blush. now her lips brush against skin that’s always cold, always damp.

shauna doesn’t blush anymore.

it’s been 2 months.

2 months of cracked lips and frozen hands and meals that don’t leave you full.

2 months of shauna looking less like a person and more like something the wilderness kept for itself.

who knew someone could change so fast in 2 months?

but jackie still finds herself drawn to her.

like gravity. like punishment.

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──

shauna stands by the fire with blood on her collarbone, arms crossed, eyes sharp.

she hasn’t said a word to jackie all day.

jackie walks up to her anyway.

“do you remember my birthday party?” she says.

shauna doesn’t look at her.

“you made that awful lemon cake from scratch,” jackie goes on. “it sunk in the middle. and you cried.”

shauna’s mouth twitches, but it doesn’t become a smile.

“you said it was perfect anyway.”

“it was,” jackie says, too soft. “you were.”

and shauna looks at her like she’s choking on something. like jackie just touched a bruise no one’s allowed to see.

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──

they used to hold each other at night.

it wasn’t talked about, wasn’t labeled. just warmth in the cold, fingers tangled together, the space between them sacred.

now shauna sleeps with a knife under her furs.

she turns away when jackie reaches for her.

“why do you keep looking at me like that?” shauna says one night, voice low. raw.

jackie blinks.

“like what?”

“like i’m still the same.”

jackie swallows.

“maybe i want to believe you are.”

shauna exhales through her nose, like that hurts more than anything else.

“then you’re lying to yourself.”

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──

the night they finally kiss again, it���s snowing.

not like a fairytale.

it’s bitter and grey and sharp against the skin.

shauna’s shaking. not from cold.

jackie steps into her space anyway, presses her hands to her face, leans in like it’s the last time.

it might be.

their mouths meet in silence.

shauna kisses her like she’s starving. like she wants to eat her alive and disappear inside her.

and jackie lets her.

because for a moment, she feels like shauna’s still in there.

somewhere.

after, shauna won’t look at her.

“don’t do that again,” she says. her voice is hoarse. “don’t pretend i’m still good.”

“you were never bad,” jackie says. “you were scared. we all are.”

shauna finally meets her eyes.

and jackie sees it—just for a second. the guilt. the grief. the love.

and something else.

something darker.

“you didn’t see what i did,” shauna whispers. “you didn’t feel what it felt like. to lose him. to bury him.”

jackie feels her chest cave in.

shauna looks away.

and jackie wants to grab her, wants to scream, wants to kiss her until she remembers.

but shauna’s already walking back toward the cabin.

into the shadows.

like the woods didn’t just take her.

like she let them.

jackie stands there long after she’s gone.

snow melting on her skin.

wondering how you mourn someone

who’s still breathing.

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masterlist

( very much a work in progress ).

yellowjackets:

jackieshauna — what’s left of you.